The Dismemberment Plan – Uncanney Valley (Partisan)
I first heard most of the songs from Uncanney Valley two years ago during a Dismemberment Plan reunion show in downtown Fredericksburg at a small drum studio, Eyeclopes. The friend who introduced me to the band had just moved into a house across the street from the venue, so we were ecstatic to see “The Plan” in a 200-capacity venue.
The Dismemberment Plan – Uncanney Valley (Partisan)
I first heard most of the songs from Uncanney Valley two years ago during a Dismemberment Plan reunion show in downtown Fredericksburg at a small drum studio, Eyeclopes. The friend who introduced me to the band had just moved into a house across the street from the venue, so we were ecstatic to see “The Plan” in a 200-capacity venue. The Washington D.C. natives unveiled a whole slew of new songs that night, giving hint that a new record could be underway. Several reunion shows had taken place in 2007 and 2011, but at the time, the band had reiterated a disinterest in making another record. Hearing new Dismemberment Plan songs that night was like some suburban DC, post-punk nerd’s dream come true.
Fourteen months later, Uncanney Valley has arrived. With a funky, misspelled album title much like 90s alt-rock contemporaries Carrisa’s Wierd, the Plan has come back with a record that’s reflects their matured position in life. Vocalist/Guitarist Travis Morrison, now 40 years old, works as a programmer at Huffington Post and recently got married to an editor at Slate. Drummer Joe Easley now has a family and works as an Engineer at NASA.
The record opens with a familiar dose of the sometimes-outlandish lyrics that The Dismemberment Plan is known for: “You hit the spacebar enough and cocaine comes out/I really like this computer!” Life as pencil-pushers and desk jockeys has become the lyrical subject matter, along with romance, reflection on youth, and being a middle class adult. Gone are songs about loneliness and 20-something angst. There are no songs like “The Jitters,” from 1999’s classic, Emergency & I, describing paralyzing depression.
Fans need not worry about the band sounding any different, however. Their signature jangly guitars, odd time signatures, eclectic vocal stylings, samples, and synthesizers are all still there. They still sound like Devo and They Might Be Giants, but uniquely modern and matured. Lead single “Waiting” showcases their return to form, with Morrison rapping through the chorus then going into the verses full of percussive synth samples and keyboards.
While some tracks are full of energy, none of the songs on this album get quite as frantic as some of those on Emergency & I. The abrasive, punk rock-meets-funk grooves with sometimes screamed, stuttered, or even falsetto vocals won’t be found on Uncanney Valley. Keyboards and synths also carry most of the melodies and are the central focus of the tracks, with the few guitar riffs and licks being a bit more buried. Some songs still do still have that heavy bass groove over robotically precise percussion, such as in “Mexcio City Christmas.”
The guitar work isn’t the same as it was before, but it’s still there. “Daddy was a Real Good Dancer,” a sentimental realization of what parenthood could mean, gives a great example, with a twangy guitar melody over the piano. The song features some insightful lyrics from Morrison as well: “When I finally lay my cold and creaky bones to rest/I hope I’m not a mystery to those who knew me best.” On most of Uncanney Valley, though, the guitar work focuses more on solos near the end of tracks. Its previous role as the loudest instrument in the mix, with tons of distortion and effects to barrage the listener, has clearly changed.
The band’s penchant for pop music and R&B is also on display. “Invisible” begins with a string orchestra sample, which could easily be used for a hip hop track. Other tracks are so poppy they may seem like fluff, such as “Living in Song” and “Go and Get It,” but they’re still great songs with wonderful vocal melodies, and earn their place within the track listing for the album.
The band is still completely honest in much of their lyrics as they were during their original run. In an observation of being caught admiring his partner in “Lookin’,” Morrison still lets himself be vulnerable. Lines like “Once he wanted to paint her naked/Now he only wants to paint her” reflect Morrison’s matured perspective on romance, valuing love over lust.
Plenty of critics have said that the new record strays from the original sound that made The Dismemberment Plan rich and famous [well, famous…-ed.], but what artist or band doesn’t expand on their sound, especially when it has been 12 years since their last record? Uncanney Valley still retains the personality and energy that helped The Dismemberment Plan achieve popularity in the 90’s and even after their first retirement. Fans will not be disappointed.
